


Dye My Eyes and Call Me Pretty

by destroythemeek



Series: Never Once Gave Thought to Landing [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Academy Era, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destroythemeek/pseuds/destroythemeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy Mustang looks amazing in drag.  Hughes wants to take full advantage of that fact.  Of course, nothing is that simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dye My Eyes and Call Me Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [Cherry Lips (Go Baby Go)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/193032), a silly little fic I wrote in which Roy Mustang puts on a genuinely pretty dress for the drag fashion show/hazing ritual at the Academy and blatantly flirts with Hughes from the runway. That's all you need to know to read this one, though if you want to read the other first, be my guest! Title is from "Laid" by James. And I need to give my beta, likeadeuce, all the thanks in the world. This fic literally would not exist without her, and it would not be in the shape it's in without her encouragement, smart suggestions, and infinite patience.

The crowd of cadets making their way to the party that traditionally followed the fashion show was large enough that Hughes knew they wouldn’t miss him if he slipped away. Which was a good thing, because finding Roy had quickly become his first and only priority.

He didn’t have to search for long. Around the corner from the mess hall, Hughes spotted Roy coming out of the men’s washroom, eyes narrowed in concentration as he studied his painted fingernails. He was still wearing his dress, midnight blue and shimmering and falling to the middle of his calves, but there was a distinctive bulge in the front that Hughes was sure hadn’t been there during the show.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” Hughes called as he approached, loudly and with just the right amount of humor in case others were nearby. When Roy looked up from his fingernails, eyebrow raised in a question, Hughes crossed the last few feet of hallway and lowered his voice, gesturing at the place where Roy’s skirt pushed outward. “How’d you manage to hide all that for your runway debut?”

Roy grimaced. “It’s not a process I’d recommend.” Then he smiled, looking pleased with himself and a little like he’d just run a gauntlet in drills. “I pulled it off, though, didn’t I?”

“You have no idea how well. Also, you owe me.”

Roy blinked his kohl-lined eyes. “Oh, come on, Hughesie. Everybody in there took it as a joke. No harm done.”

Hughes shook his head. “No, no. You, my friend, misunderstand.” Hughes checked to make sure the hallway was still empty, then leaned in closer, wrapping a hand around the back of Roy’s neck above the clasp of his halter collar. “You _owe_ me,” he whispered, in a rasp to match the one Roy had used when he’d knelt at the edge of the runway and grabbed Hughes by the tie.

Roy’s eyes widened for a second, and then he grinned, mouth bright and glossy. “Well, I believe I can arrange payment of some kind.”

“Good,” Hughes said. “I think I can safely assume you weren’t planning on going to the party anyway.” He glanced meaningfully at Roy’s bulge.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin the illusion,” Roy agreed.

Halfway to Roy’s room, Hughes spotted Hudson, a fellow second year, passing by in the opposite direction. As they neared each other, Hudson smirked and called out to Hughes. “Hey, watch out, cadet! I think that girl might be hiding something nasty under that skirt!”

“What?!” Hughes yelled back in mock outrage, throwing a protective arm around Roy’s shoulders. “A doll as pretty as this one, not a chance!”

Hudson laughed and continued on his way.

Roy glared at Hudson’s retreating back. “I’ll show him nasty...” he muttered.

“Aw, don’t sweat it,” Hughes said, grinning. “He’s just jealous that I’ve got the prettiest girlfriend.” He grabbed Roy’s arm and tugged him along, practically dragging him the rest of the way in his eagerness.  
.  
Somehow Roy had arranged to get a single room, despite the widespread presence of bunk beds in the rest of the Academy dorms. Hughes didn’t know how Roy had managed it, and he wasn’t entirely sure he _wanted_ to know, but it certainly suited their purposes.

When the door had closed behind them, Roy put his hands to the back of his neck, fiddling with the clasp of his dress. “No,” Hughes said, grabbing and stilling his arm. “Leave it on.”

Roy’s face clouded for a moment, his brows furrowing and his lips pouting. But the expression vanished a moment later and he nodded, letting his hands drop. Hughes looked him up and down, taking in the totality of Roy’s form, from the flower in his hair to the strappy heels on his stocking-covered feet. He was fucking beautiful, and just looking at him was enough to make Hughes embarrassingly hard.

Then Hughes reached out his hands to smooth his way down Roy’s body, delighting in the feel of the blue dress rippling under his fingers. It was definitely silk, the kind Hughes’ ex-girlfriend Clara used to favor, and it definitely had not come from the Academy storage closet.

“You,” Hughes said, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of Roy’s painted mouth, “are too—“ Kiss. “Damn –“ Kiss. “Pretty –“ Another kiss, right at the middle of Roy’s lips— “For your own damn good.” Then he gave up on language entirely and just focused on the kissing, hot and messy open-mouthed kisses that left his face covered in smudges of lipstick.

His hands, which had not yet gotten used to the wonders of Roy Mustang’s body, wandered over the contours of the dress and the taut muscles beneath and up into Roy’s soft, messy hair. Roy’s own hands remained still at Hughes’ hips, holding him close but letting Hughes take the lead.

Hughes stumbled toward Roy’s bed, pushing them both down onto it and climbing up to straddle Roy’s waist. He took only a second to hastily pull off his own shirt and tie before leaning in to start kissing Roy again, cradling Roy’s head in his hands. As they kissed, Roy’s eyes stayed open, lending his face an indecipherable expression that Hughes noted but immediately pushed to the back of his mind, too distracted by Roy’s incredible mouth.

He could have stayed there much longer, kissing and kissing and kissing, but the pressure in his pants made him eager to move his attention a bit lower. He took a second to stroke Roy’s cheek before climbing off of him and moving instead to the foot of the bed, where he knelt between Roy’s legs and hiked his skirt to the waist.

Hughes wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find beneath Roy’s impossibly slinky dress, but what he did find was enough to make him gasp openly and send his blood rushing southward. Roy wore a garter belt of fine lace, hooked with lacy suspenders to the top of his stockings. It sat at his waist, pressed to the contours of his flat stomach, with nothing beneath it to cover his erection. And tucked into the suspenders of each leg, high up on his thigh, was a starched white alchemy glove.

Hughes tugged the gloves out from beneath the suspenders, holding them up for Roy to see. “Are you really that obsessed?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s no different than hiding a gun there. A girl has to be prepared.” There was something strangely vicious about the way he said the word “girl.”

Hughes just laughed, tossing the gloves up to Roy. “A naughty girl, maybe.”

“Hmph,” Roy grunted as he took the gloves and slipped them over the painted fingernails of each hand. He snapped his fingers, letting an arc of fire rise into the air and take the shape of a dragon before fizzling out.

“You and your party tricks.” Hughes shook his head and moved his attention to Roy’s shoes, which would have to come off before they had the chance to stab Hughes in the eye at an inopportune moment. Hughes worked gently but quickly, undoing the clasps one by one. It was something he hadn’t done for months, not since Clara had dumped him over the last winter holiday, but it wasn’t a terribly difficult task.

With the shoes tossed safely to the ground, Hughes switched his focus to Roy’s legs, smoothing his hands up and down from the soft woven fabric of the stockings to the sparse dark hairs above. He was eager to move on, eager to get inside of Roy and slide between those gartered thighs until he was spent. That had been the pattern of things since they’d started sleeping together, and Hughes knew that Roy enjoyed it. But this time he could tell that something wasn’t quite right.

Above him, Roy was still playing with his gloves, making idle fire shapes in the air. His whole body, Hughes noticed, had stiffened – not just the parts that Hughes wanted to stiffen. Something was definitely wrong.

Hughes sat back on his heels, removing his hands from Roy’s body. Roy snuffed out the phoenix he’d made and narrowed his eyes at Hughes.

“Did I ruin the fantasy?”

“What?” Hughes asked. The only way Roy was going to ruin this particular fantasy was if he continued to play the part of an unwilling participant.

“Nevermind.”

“No, no, you don’t get to pull a typical Roy Mustang and back away from something like that. Or something like _this_ ,” Hughes added, gesturing between them.

Roy sat up slightly and pushed himself back toward the headboard, smoothing his skirt down over his legs. “Just let me touch up my makeup. I’m sure I’m a mess.”

Hughes gave Roy a hard stare, letting his deductive brain travel through all the steps they’d taken to get here. And then, suddenly, he understood.

“Roy – damnit, did you really think…?” Hughes scrambled up the bed until he was lying beside Roy, his body half-turned so he was propped up and leaning over him. He grabbed Roy’s wrist and pulled off the glove, setting it aside on the bedside table.

“Did you really think I wanted to pretend you were a girl?” Hughes asked, tightening his grip on Roy’s wrist.

Roy shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. He pulled his arm away. “You like girls.”

“So do you,” Hughes pointed out. Roy had, in fact, made an elaborate show of emphasizing that liking the feel of a cock in his mouth didn’t invalidate his feelings for women. Hughes had mostly been embarrassed and confused and pretty sure that this was Roy’s inept attempt, at the very beginning of their relationship, at trying to be reassuring about Hughes’ own (mostly) heterosexuality. But Roy hadn’t been _lying_ either, as far as Hughes could tell. And Hughes could usually tell.

“That’s a different matter,” Roy replied stiffly. He still hadn’t looked at Hughes.

“How is it different?”

“Well, for one thing, I’ve never made a habit of calling you my girlfriend.” And Roy finally turned his head, staring Hughes straight in the eye.

“I don’t—“ Hughes started, immediately, but he swallowed the sentence, knowing it wasn’t true.

It wasn’t that he’d ever really thought of Roy as his girlfriend. It was just easy to joke about, when all of this was so new to him. “My last girlfriend wasn’t such a brat,” he’d complain, when Roy was being petulant. Or, when Roy would steal the last piece of quiche in the mess, “You’re the worst girlfriend ever.” And maybe sometimes when he was happy, too, when Roy managed to make good bourbon appear out of nowhere, despite the wartime rationing: “I have the best girlfriend.”

“Those were jokes,” Hughes protested now. “I was teasing. It’s what I do. I never meant –“

“I’m not an idiot, Hughes.”

“I beg to differ,” Hughes said, but it was becoming abundantly clear that this was no time for levity.

Roy let his head tip back onto the pillow, staring at the whitewashed ceiling once again.

“Hey!” Hughes said, because he was never the type to let someone escape a conversation, especially not someone who was lying in bed with him. “We’re not done.” He put a hand to Roy’s cheek, turning his face back toward him. “You’re the one wearing garters and a sexy dress, yet you’re mad at me for liking it. Why did you even put them on? You had plenty of options.”

Roy didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Hughes could feel the answer in his gut, weighing down like a stone.

“Yeah,” Hughes said, “I get it. You wanted to find a way to fuck with all the conservative assholes in this place.”

Roy shrugged, but his guilty expression gave him away.

“And you think I’m one of them.”

Roy had the decency to look pained, but he didn’t deny it.

Hughes wanted to get angry, but he found he couldn’t. Before this year, before he’d met Roy, Maes Hughes had been as average and conventional as anyone could possibly be. He was fifth generation military, he had a steady girlfriend he’d been seeing for years, he was still hanging out with half the kids he’d known in prep school, and he knew exactly what his future would hold: graduation from the academy, an army career, a pretty wife and a whole passel of children, and a lifetime of not thinking about any alternatives to the world his father had given him.

It wasn’t an easy thing to give up. For anyone lesser than Roy Mustang, Hughes might never have tried. And maybe before now he hadn’t tried quite hard enough, hadn’t let himself consider the full weight of the decision he was making.

“I’m not that guy anymore, Roy. At least I’m trying not to be. And this –“ he gestured to the dress. “I don’t like it because it helps me pretend you’re a girl. I like it because it…” The words were coming hesitantly, awkwardly, as Hughes tried to wrap his brain around the truth at the same time he said it. “Because it proves that you’re a man. Because you can play up all this feminine stuff but then I see your throat or your arms or all the things you’re not hiding beneath that garter belt, and I want you even more. If you were a girl, you’d just be a hot chick in a nice dress, but because you’re _you_ , it’s… the contrast is just…”

Hughes shook his head, trying to find his words. Failing at that, he reached over and grabbed Roy’s wrist again. Roy didn’t pull back, so Hughes brought it up to his lips and kissed each manicured finger, one by one.

Even the nail polish didn’t make Roy less of a man, Hughes realized. He was just a man who happened to look incredibly good with nail polish. And it was time Hughes faced up to that reality, or risk losing the complicated, beautiful, mesmerizing person he’d fallen for.

“Let me show you,” Hughes said. He let go of Roy’s wrist and began snaking his hand down Roy’s body to his skirt, where he slipped his hand through the side slit to grasp Roy firmly in hand. “Give me that chance.”

Roy’s face stayed carefully blank for one too-long moment. Hughes let his fingers stroke gently, up and down. Then Roy nodded, and Hughes didn’t need any more encouragement. He sat up, plucked the flower from behind Roy’s ear and tossed it onto the bedside table, and kissed Roy firmly on the mouth before making his way back to the foot of the bed.

Kneeling on the floor between Roy’s legs, Hughes unhooked Roy’s stockings, letting the lacy suspenders spring back toward the garter belt. Then he ran a finger up Roy’s inner thigh, following a path parallel to where the suspender had been. Roy’s whole body shivered in response. Oh, yes. Hughes was going to prove just how much he wanted this.

“Wait,” Roy said, as Hughes let his finger trace tiny patterns in the soft flesh of his thighs. Hughes froze, but Roy only sat up a bit and leaned down to slip off Hughes’ glasses, setting them down on the bedside table. Roy’s fingers on the sides of his face felt intimate in a way nothing Roy had done so far this evening had. Hughes didn’t like to read into things, but any little intimacy raised the chances that he hadn’t ruined things completely with his own stupid insecurities.

Unwilling to waste another second, Hughes leaned in and took Roy’s hardening cock into his mouth.

Hughes was not, in any sense, an accomplished cocksucker. His mouth had become intimately familiar with every part of Clara’s body, a point of pride for Hughes’ sense of chivalry and a point of pleasure for his sense of “things that are awesome,” but Roy’s equipment required a somewhat different skillset. A skillset Hughes had, until now, been reluctant to develop. He’d tried, once or twice, made hesitant attempts at adding his mouth to the things he did with his hands to get Roy off, but some part of him had been too terrified of what it would mean to do that and like it. Roy, to his credit, had never complained.

But that was before. Before Hughes had looked into Roy’s painted eyes and known with certainty that Roy’s maleness was in no way a strike against the attraction Hughes felt.

Hughes didn’t try to imitate Roy and the things he’d done to drive Hughes crazy over the past few months. Roy was more experienced than Hughes could even fathom, much less replicate. But everyone Hughes had ever known had remarked on his abundant enthusiasm and big mouth, and he was putting both to good use now. He hoped they’d make up for his improvised technique.

Hughes was kneeling on the floor, leaning in over the bed to reach Roy, who was splayed out with his legs dangling over the edge. When Hughes started sucking, Roy propped himself up on his elbows so he could peer downwards and offer directions – “Yes!” and “Faster!” and “Pull back just a little” and “Oh, fuck yes, do that again.” Then, as Hughes picked up his rhythm and Roy’s breath started coming in short gasps, Roy fell back against the bed, moving only when the slick slide of Hughes’ tongue made his body writhe in pleasure.

For a novice, Hughes was quite pleased with the results he was getting. As it had been with Clara, Hughes’ primary goal was to give his partner pleasure. But this wasn’t a selfless act. Having Roy in his mouth, nosing his face into Roy’s groin, brought an intoxicating feeling of sensory overload, and every time Roy cried out Hughes found himself getting harder.

Pretending Roy wasn’t a man would never be a real possibility. And in that moment, Hughes didn’t mind in the least.

Roy’s squirming had become more intense, and he thrust out an arm toward Hughes below him, as if in warning. Hughes knew Roy was close, and as a final push he slipped his hand up and over Roy’s hipbone and snapped the lace of the garter belt against Roy’s skin. A second later, Hughes was jerking his head back and away as Roy came onto the bedspread and the untucked corners of his skirt.

Hughes had pulled away in surprise almost as soon as Roy had finished, but he could still taste a bit of Roy’s come on his lips. He licked it off thoughtfully, without distaste, then squinted up at Roy. From what Hughes could make out without his glasses, Roy looked sated.

Hughes crawled back up into the bed and lay next to Roy, breathing softly in matched rhythm. He was painfully aware of the fact that he hadn’t even taken off his own trousers yet. But after the fraught conversation earlier, Hughes wasn’t going to do anything until he and Roy were on the same page.

“This dress is probably ruined now,” Roy remarked, picking idly at his rumpled, white-streaked skirt. He didn’t sound particularly upset. “But I’m sure my aunt pretty much expected this when she let me borrow it.”

“Your _aunt_?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I bet,” Hughes replied. Everything Hughes didn’t know about Roy’s life was a long story. It was a whole _book_ of long stories. Hughes hoped that Roy would let him read it someday, but he was willing to be patient.

They fell back into silence.

After a moment, like he’d made some kind of decision, Roy rolled over and kissed Hughes with soft lips and a feather-light tongue. Hughes was sure Roy could taste himself in his mouth, but Roy wasn’t complaining. Hughes deepened the kiss, taking a moment to ruffle Roy’s hair, and he reached over to clasp Roy’s hand with his own. They lay like that, kissing and holding hands and nothing more, until finally Hughes couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Roy, I could do this all day, I honestly could, but right now I really, really need –“ He gestured to his belt, which he started to remove.

Roy nodded. He even smiled. “Of course,” he said, and he grabbed a jar of Vaseline from his night table drawer. Hughes would have taken anything, at that point – Roy’s hand, his own. Anything to finish what he’d started. But Roy was giving him what he’d come for in the first place, the thing he’d been seeking when he found Roy in the hallway outside the mess. Hughes wasn’t about to say no.

It didn’t take long. After everything else, Hughes was practically on the edge the moment he pushed himself into Roy, kneeling before him with Roy’s legs wrapped tightly around his body . But he entered nonetheless, hands gripping Roy’s waist so tightly that the lace left imprints on his palms, and within minutes Hughes found himself coming deep inside of Roy, the smooth sensation of stockings pressing against his naked back.

Hughes pulled out and let himself fall forward, boneless, draping himself over Roy’s body. He rested his head on Roy’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing through the blue silk. He never wanted to get up again.

Eventually, to avoid suffocating the man he’d just fucked, Hughes pressed a kiss to Roy’s neck and dragged himself upright, stumbling over to the private bathroom that no first year cadet should have had. He took a piss in the toilet, then stood at the sink to wash his hands. In the mirror, he could see the smudges of Roy’s lipstick all around his mouth, streaking his cheeks and dotting his stubble. Hughes opened up the cabinet behind the mirror and, sure enough, found a tiny pot of cold cream. After cleaning himself up, Hughes screwed on the lid and reached up to put the cold cream back on the shelf. Then he had a better idea.

“Hey,” Hughes said, from the bathroom doorway. Roy looked up at him, and Hughes crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “Give me your face,” he said.

Roy obliged, though not without a note of suspicion in his expression. “Close your eyes,” Hughes said. Roy did, and Hughes dabbed his index finger in the cream, placing a dot on each of Roy’s eyelids. Up close Hughes didn’t need his glasses as much, and he could see the way Roy’s eyelids fluttered beneath his fingers, blinking rapid half-blinks in response to the touch. Hughes kept his fingers gentle, rubbing off bits of kohl with little circular motions, and Roy lay perfectly still beneath him. When the eyes were done, Hughes moved down to Roy’s lips, using the cream to remove the layer of sticky, smudged lipstick. Finally he took a washcloth that he’d grabbed in the bathroom and wiped away the remaining cream, leaving Roy’s face fresh and clean and makeup-free and every bit as gorgeous.

“There,” Hughes said, setting the pot and the washcloth aside. He stroked Roy’s cheek. “That was all a lot of fun,” he admitted. “But I’m happy to have my boyfriend back.”

Roy looked up at him seriously. “I never went anywhere.”

“I know,” Hughes replied. He looked past shimmering silk and the blurry outline of a flower wilting on the nightstand, and leaned in to press a reassuring kiss to Roy’s unadorned lips.


End file.
